Narcissa
by Aichmophobia
Summary: Narcissa Malfoy is the forgotten wife. Her husband and her son must bear terrible things which she would never wish upon anybody, but Narcissa has her own life too.
1. Single Petal

Hogwarts

"He loves me.. He loves me not.. He loves me.. He loves me not..."

"It seems he loves you not," came a familiar voice, so close that it made Narcissa start, and she dropped the now petal-less flower she had been holding.

She stood hurriedly, and turned to see the tall, handsome figure of Lucius Malfoy leaning on the back of the armchair she had, until recently, been sitting in. A blush spread across her cheeks. He'd managed to creep up to her silently, again, and startle her. Again. And judging by the look on his face, he'd been there a while.

The blush darkened, contrasting with her pale skin and bleach-blonde hair.

"It's just a game."

Lucius smirked at the defensive tone in her voice.

"Ah. You can keep.. hoping.. then." He spoke critically, as if he believed hope was for the weak.

Narcissa scowled. She knew it was just a stupid little kids' game, but it gave her something to do while she waited... No, not waited, just sat...

The thing was, Lucius was the main reason she often wandered down to the Slytherin Common Room at night. While Bella was in bed either hers or someone else's, Narcissa might have a chance to talk to Lucius without her sister there to embarrass her.

"Maybe I will," she retorted with a glare.

Lucius almost laughed at that.

Almost.

He moved slowly around the dark green chair to stand beside her, facing her. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face.

"Maybe you should."

Narcissa was still trying to tell herself that Lucius was just playing with her again when he leant in to brush his lips against hers, before turning, and walking away, back to the boys' dormitories.

When, with a typically-Lucius swish of his cloak, he was gone, she sank back into the chair. Feeling something beneath her hand, she picked it up.

It was the flower, with one, small, purple petal still attached

Smiling wearily, she plucked it from the plant.

"He loves me..."


	2. Black Silk

Black Silk

It was horrible. It was exceptional. A twisted mixture of pleasure and pain that probably even Voldemort himself couldn't match. You could say that it was funny how Lucius outshone his master in bed.

If you wanted to laugh at such sordid things.

Luckily, it was doubtful that Narcissa would ever be able to say that she could compare the two, though it was more than probable that Voldemort frequently turned his attention to her sister, who was just as bound by marriage as Narcissa was. Her older, stunning, clever sister. At least Bellatrix knew how to get what she wanted.

But what did Narcissa want? She had always wanted Lucius, and now she had him. But still he wouldn't let her in. He wouldn't let her see what she knew he must be inside. Not even when they were alone. Not even when they were in bed. Even then he made her wear a blindfold. That black, silk, godforsaken blindfold. No one was allowed to see what was beneath his icy shell, a cover that she had always known, and that grew stronger every day, so that every day her hopes that she would one day get him to remove it dimmed.

What would happen when her hopes disappeared?

When he took her to bed, he was the same controlling Death Eater she thought he must be with everyone else he hurt. He made her beg, plead - for him to go faster, harder. He made her struggle, and would hurt her for doing so. It was like a test - he wanted to make sure she would still obey his every command.

And afterwards, every time, she would whisper that she loved him, still hoping that he would see, and that maybe one day he would love her in return.

But every time she would hear the same three words, as he turned away from her.

"Go to sleep."

Every time, she would close her eyes, and let the pounding of her heart lull her to sleep.

And every time, Lucius would wait until her breathing steadied, before he turned back over to face her, and slipped his arms around her.


	3. Little Death Eater

Little Death Eater

Narcissa had thought Draco her saviour. When she'd held him in her arms as a newly-born baby, she'd felt like he'd brought life into her life. She'd smiled, and it had been the first time in months. Probably the first time since she'd discovered she was pregnant.

It had lasted about five seconds. Then, Lucius had taken over.

Naturally, he hadn't stayed in the private hospital room during the labour, but he'd told the healers to fetch him once the baby was born and his wife was cleaned up and respectable.

---

As soon as he entered, he crossed to the bed and took Draco from an unresisting Narcissa. Why should she protest? He was his father, after all. She thought he'd be happy. She thought perhaps that Draco would be able to help his father as she hadn't been able to.

But then he said something which mapped out the poor boy's life inescapably.

"Welcome to the world, my little Death Eater."

That one sentence she would never forget. Everything in Draco's life seemed to be dictated by what Lucius had already decided he was to become.

Lucius had decided. Narcissa had nothing to do with her son. She'd done her part.

As Lucius had told her, rather harshly, around the time of Draco's third birthday.

---

Narcissa had been determined to get her son the perfect birthday gift. Remembering her secret love for Andromeda's fairy tales, she gave orders to the house elves.

What they brought her was wonderful. A beautifully decorated book of different fairy tales, with amazing, detailed illustrations. Tales of heroes, Princes and Princesses. But best of all was the front cover. A silver dragon, with DRACO written above it, in gold.

Remembering that Lucius was in the Ballroom, she took the book and crept upstairs, her plan being to hide it until Draco's birthday.

"Narcissa."

It was frustratingly annoying how she could never find Lucius when she was looking for him, but when she had something to hide he always seemed to appear from nowhere.

She turned to face him, and the book was snatched from her hands instantly.

Lucius' glance only flickered over the first page, and then he was tearing it out.

Narcissa, intent on retrieving her gift, found her hand on Lucius' arm. He looked almost amused as she realised that she'd instinctively done something she shouldn't, and twisted his arm, closing his hand around her slender wrist.

Without giving his wife a chance to invent an excuse, he spoke.

"I will not have you giving my son fairy tales. I have already had his gifts made. There is no need for you to interfere."

He let go of her, snapped the book closed, and handed it to her.

He pointed his wand at the book.

"Incendio."

Flames shot from his wand to lick at the volume, and Narcissa dropped it with a gasp. It was soon nothing more than a pile of ash, and another spell from Lucius disposed of even that.

And once again, he was gone, sweeping down the stairs to rejoin the guests in the Ballroom.

Narcissa moved silently up to the bedroom and sat on the Emperor-sized bed. Wordlessly, she vowed never to try to get close to Lucius' little Death Eater again.

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})i({Butterfly})i({

Thank you for your reviews so far, all of which I received on my brother's birthday

Thank you Kyra4, Pink Roses, ecstatictheatress, and kitsunelover.

This chapter is kind of bad... purely because I wrote in about sixteen sittings.


	4. Distressing News for Us All

So this one is slightly longer than the others. I really got into it; I'm pretty sure that any further chapters will be more like this one.

Many thanks to Alora, who makes me feel special! You should all thank her too: she's the reason I got off my lazy bottom (or sat down on it, as the case may be) to write this chapter.

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I was 13 when I went on my first (and last) Death Eater raid.

Lucius was in the fifth year when the Dark Lord first came to power and he was so eager to find out more about this amazingly powerful man who had taken the world by storm that he began saving every scrap of newspaper that mentioned him. These grew in number rapidly and it wasn't long before Lucius had built up quite a collection, keeping them in a box which could shrink and regrow at a tap of his wand, perfect for keeping secrets in. He _was_ incredibly secretive, even at school, but that didn't stop me from finding out.

He had several of them laid out on his four-poster bed when I slipped into the dormitories, looking for him. He looked up when I entered, but his attention was quickly brought back to the clippings in front of him once more. I stepped further into the room, heading straight for Lucius. I didn't bother to look around, to check whether anyone else was lurking silently in the corners; if Lucius was up here when everybody else was watching Quidditch, he had something to hide and if he had something to hide, he would have already done that for me.

When I reached his bed, my eyes were drawn to the printed sheets of paper, to the photographs of terrified eyewitnesses, of glamorous reporters, of scenes of utter destruction.

"Look," Lucius said, and I looked up to find him holding one of the articles up to show me. This had no photograph and the article was fairly small, but he was clutching it like it was precious to him so I leaned in to look more closely. If it was important enough for him to drop the act for a moment and speak to me like I was something close to worthy, it was definitely something I needed to see.

He took it back, though - away from my gaze - and started to read:

"... But apparently worse things might be yet to come. Our eyewitness told us that when he saw the wizard whose name many have become too fearful to speak, there was a figure beside him, dressed in a long black cloak with a mask to hide his true identity. The eyewitness has said this figure was showing signs of being a very faithful follower. If so, this is distressing news for us all."

He looked up, his eyes gleaming.

"One day," he said, "this will be me."

I waited a beat.

"Distressing news for us all?"

"Faithfull follower," he corrected, smirking as he carefully laid the article atop another, showing a young girl who had lost her parents to this powerful dark wizard. He seemed to be in a good mood, so I chanced a smile.

"Who says he'll have you?" I asked, teasingly.

His hands were around my neck in an instant.

I held my breath, having learned from experience that the best thing to do in these circumstances was to keep very still. Sure enough, within moments his grip was relaxing. He trailed a pale finger down the side of my neck, making me shiver. He laughed, dropping his hands, and I relaxed again, though not to the extent I had before.

"I'll show you," he said, and I had the presence of mind to be chilled by that when I heard the amused tone in his voice.

"And I'll show him, too."

---

A church.

As I looked up at the ancient, grey-stone building, I was wondering why on Earth this mighty and powerful wizard would bother with a muggle church of all places.

I cast a glance at Lucius, creeping along beside me. Was he wondering the same thing? Or maybe he already knew, I thought, realising for the first time that he shouldn't have known where this dark wizard was going to be having his next raid at the same time that I realised I didn't want to know how he'd worked it out.

He stopped, turned to face me. His face was brighter than I thought I had ever seen it. He took hold of my hand and I let his body warmth flow through into mine, smiling. We were quite possibly risking our lives, not to mention being expelled from Hogwarts for sneaking out after hours, but I couldn't help but be infected by his excitement.

"This is it," he said, turning away from me once more. He crept forward, taking me with him, and peered around the corner of the building to scan the night for obstacles. A quick squeeze of my hand, whether it was intentional or not, and then we moved off once more.

Once we were inside, the rest was startingly easy. Nobody had arrived yet and, quashing my doubts (as well as hopes), I let Lucius lead me to a suitable hiding place. There was a huge organ of some kind, with various decorated wooden bits extending from it in many directions; perfect for crouching behind to watch muggles getting killed. He gestured for me to duck behind one of these first and then, after a quick look around the doomed building, joined me.

---

I had never seen such terror.

At first, we sat in silence as the unknowing muggles entered, filing in for some kind of late night service. Then, we waited while the religious leader (whatever they call them) stood up and started talking, preaching about magic and "the occult". Lucius sat beside me, smirking at the irony, buzzing with anticipation.

And then he came.

He seemed to radiate darkness. The church was quite dingy already, but I was sure as we spied that the building grew even darker. I could have even sworn I saw a few candles extinguish themselves. He was dressed all in black, too. Long black cloak covering his entire body, black hood which left his face in shadow, showing nothing but the hint of a pale face. He seemed almost to glide up the central aisle, the muggles either side of him clutching each other pathetically in their confusion. They seemed to me like animals, then, and I felt a sudden connection to this man who sought to destroy them.

He killed their leader first. Drew his wand and spoke the words loudly, clearly, in a hissing tone. There was a flash of green light, illuminating the entire church for a moment, stunning Lucius as he pulled himself up a little to get a better view, and when it had cleared the man's body was limp on the floor.

Pandemonium erupted. Lucius was laughing and I turned to warn him to keep quiet before I realised that we could make as much noise as we wanted; we would never be heard over the screaming.

I pulled at his robes, though, fearful of what might happen if he were spotted. He looked at me for a moment, then turned back to the chaos.

Together, we watched.

I was fidgeting, wringing my hands nervously, eager to leave the place before we - two Hogwarts students - were discovered at the scene with dozens of human bodies spread about the church like insects. Lucius held me down with a hand on my shoulder, though, clearly wary that the wizard who had caused all of this destruction might still be around.

He was right.

A man stepped out in front of our hiding place, peered down at us over the chunk of wood.

"And who are you?"

His voice was low, deep, quiet, smooth, slipping into my ears like oil even through the mask he wore that covered his entire face. He wore a thin black cloak, betraying a slender form, and a pointed hood. He had appeared as if from nowhere, pointing his wand directly at us.

I looked to Lucius, to distract myself from the wand in my face. He didn't look fazed; in fact, he was gazing up at the man he aspired to be with some kind of sick adoration. I stood, brushed the church-dust from my robes.

"I am Narcissa Black," I said, unsure of exactly what I was doing, of whether I was trying to stop the man from killing us on the spot or just trying to impress Lucius, "Of the noble House of Black."

Lucius, who had stood as soon as he saw me getting to my feet, stepped in front of me.

"Lucius Malfoy," he said, boldly, holding out his hand for the man who looked quite capable of killing him in a word (or two) to shake. The follower's face was one of shock, which had probably been Lucius' intention, as he turned his head to look at a spot somewhere far to the left of him. The great wizard - his leader - emerged from the shadows.

"What have you found?"

His eerie hiss made me shiver; both Lucius and the follower were too busy watching the powerful figure to notice. He was coming closer, approaching us. I held my breath as he drew ever nearer, as if I might inhale the dark aura he seemed to give off.

"Shall I kill them?"

That was the man who still had his wand pointed at us both, who had rejected Lucius' offer to shake hands and was now sneering unpleasantly. My eyes darted to his master, just in time to see him - thankfully, miraculously - shake his head.

"No..."

He indicated for the man threatening us to move aside and took his place in front of us.

"Lucius Malfoy," he hissed, curling his tongue around the name as if he were tasting it, before swallowing it down to keep, to own.

Lucius seemed to almost glow with pride. They were both ignoring me, quiet as I was (much too afraid to talk or do anything else to attract attention to myself). The murderer extended his hand and I saw pale, almost skeletal fingers; like Lucius', like he was already half-way to death. I wouldn't say it - wouldn't want to swell Lucius' head any further - but the two were very similar, and in more ways than just bone structure.

Already forming the beginnings of a relationship that would later become the heart of a reign of terror, they shook.


End file.
